SLAMMED! THE SONICS WERE OVERWHELMED BY A RELENTLESS BULLS ATTACK THAT PUT CHICAGO ON THE CUSP OF ANOTHER NBA CHAMPIONSHIP

Of all the lasting images from these NBA Finals--MichaelJordan's eyes as he sensed the kill, somehow passionately hotand cruelly cold at the same time; talkative Gary Payton's jawtightly clenched, which for him is tantamount to a concessionspeech--the one that will linger longest is Chicago Bullsforward Dennis Rodman's smile. Did it ever leave his face? Hesmiled sarcastically when the referees whistled him for fouls,shaking his head at their folly. He smiled warmly at a LuvaBull,one of the Chicago cheerleaders, when he landed in her lap whilediving for a loose ball. He smiled mockingly at poor FrankBrickowski, the Seattle SuperSonics forward who got himselfejected twice in the first three games because he didn't realizethat the real mission impossible is beating Rodman at his ownmind game. Seattle coach George Karl was correct when he saidthat Rodman was laughing at the world. Like it or not, he hasearned that right. Champions get the last laugh.

But unless you are a die-hard Bulls fan or a 13-year-old whothinks a rebel and a hero are necessarily the same thing,perhaps you ask yourself: Is this what you want your champion tobe? An instigating, irritating performance artist? Maybe youlike your winners more stylish and dignified, like the Bulls'magnificent Jordan, but admit it: During the Finals, no matterhow hard you tried, you could not keep your eyes from returningto Jordan's tattooed teammate. Love him or hate him, it seemsthe public cannot ignore him, which may be the real reasonbehind Rodman's smile--that and his proximity to his third NBAchampionship ring. After their 108-86 thrashing of the Sonics inGame 3 on Sunday in Seattle, he and the rest of the Bulls werenot quite champs yet. But with Chicago ahead 3-0 in thebest-of-seven series (Game 4 was scheduled for Wednesday atSeattle's Key Arena), the demoralized Sonics had about as muchchance of coming back to win as they did of deciphering thehieroglyphics in Rodman's hair.

The inevitable championship would be the Bulls' fourth in sixyears. In any other season the focus would be on the fact thatJordan, who broke the Sonics' backs with 36 points in Game 3 (27coming in the first half) and who was averaging a series-leading 31.0 points, was on the brink of taking the Bulls to thetitle for the fourth consecutive year that he has played a fullseason. Exclude last year's Eastern Conference semifinal loss tothe Orlando Magic, when he was still scraping off the rust fromhis 17-month hiatus from the game, and the Bulls with Jordanhaven't lost a playoff series in six years. What he was about toaccomplish--regaining the throne he had abdicated in October '93when he retired to pursue a baseball career--would be one of themost remarkable feats in NBA history. And as soon as everyonestopped craning his neck to see if that really was supermodelCindy Crawford scurrying to keep up with Rodman after Game 3 (itwas), maybe they would notice. Jordan was the Bulls' leading manin the Finals, but Rodman was the scene-stealer. "Dennis tendsto capture the limelight sometimes because of the way he doeswhat he does," Jordan said after Game 3. "But no one on thisteam cares who gets the most attention. The focus is on winninga championship, and Dennis is helping us get there."

Rodman was at his most helpful in Game 2 at Chicago's UnitedCenter, when he grabbed 20 rebounds, including 11 offensiveboards to tie the Finals record, in the Bulls' 92-88 victory. Hewas less of a factor on the backboards in Game 3, pulling down10 rebounds, but he did even more damage to the Sonics' psyche.Brickowski, his main foil throughout the series, was ejectedwith 5:46 left in the fourth quarter after committing a flagrantfoul against Rodman in what was almost a replay of his ejectionin Game 1, a 107-90 Bulls win. Rodman spent much of Game 3 doingwhat he had done during most of the series: teasing the Sonics.At one point, he had stood near the foul lane facing Brickowski,smiling at him while the Seattle fans showered him with boos.Afterward he delighted in giving the Sonics a little freeadvice. "They need to quit worrying about how to knock DennisRodman out of the game," he said, "and learn how to playbasketball again. My job is to go out there, do the dirty workand get in people's heads. That's my job. I don't get paidenough to do it, but I do it."

Rodman, who came from the San Antonio Spurs in an October tradeand made $2.5 million this season in the last year of thesix-year contract he brought with him, might be winning himselfa new deal with the Bulls. "I remember playing against him thelast couple of years when he was with the Spurs," says Chicagoguard Steve Kerr. "I hated him. Absolutely couldn't stand him.Now I love him. Anybody in the league would want to have him asa teammate. Except maybe [San Antonio center] David Robinson."

The Sonics wouldn't be likely to welcome the Worm into theirlocker room right about now, either. Before Rodman became a painin their posteriors, they were as relaxed and self-assured asthey had been in three years, having at last shed the label ofunderachievers by reaching the Finals after two consecutiveplayoff flops. The loose, confident attitude apparently extendedthroughout the Karl family. Karl's 13-year-old son, Coby, sawSonics guard Nate McMillan wearing a T-shirt with an X printedover the logos of the teams that had been eliminated from theplayoffs, leaving only the Seattle and the Chicago logosunmarked. Coby took two pieces of masking tape and stealthilyplaced an X over the Bulls' logo.

But that proved to be wishful thinking. Seattle found itself ina 3-0 hole despite outstanding performances in the first twocontests in Chicago from forward Shawn Kemp, who scored 32points in Game 1 and 29 in Game 2. The Reign Man was the Sonics'only consistent offensive threat as the Bulls held Payton to 26points on 12-of-32 shooting in the first two games. Chicagomade the Sonics guard's life difficult in much the same way thatSeattle tried to contain Jordan--by sending a series of defendersat him. "They send two guys to come in and beat me up and twoguys to be athletic," Payton said the day after Game 2. "Theyput Scottie [Pippen] on me for size. [Ron] Harper, [Randy] Brownand Jordan--when those guys guard me, they try to muscle me. Andevery time I go to the basket, they get a lot of help."

One of the 6'4" Payton's favorite tactics in the Sonics' earlierplayoff series had been to post up and shoot over smaller pointguards like the Sacramento Kings' 5'10" Tyus Edney and the UtahJazz's 6'1" John Stockton. But the size of Chicago'sguards--Jordan and Harper are both 6'6"--took that option away."He's a great player," Harper said of Payton, "but if he thinkshe can post me up, well, good luck." (Payton also missedMcMillan, who played only six minutes in Game 1 and spent thenext two games in street clothes because of pain caused by abulging disk in his back.)

But the difference in Payton wasn't purely due to strategy. Inthe Finals he was strangely subdued, which concerned the Sonicsenough that scout Brendan Malone, who had been an assistant onthe Detroit Pistons' championship teams of 1989 and 1990, tookhim aside on the off-day between Games 1 and 2. Malone toldPayton about the fiery attitude Pistons point guard Isiah Thomasalways took into the Finals, about how Thomas would pace thelocker room like a caged animal before every game. He urgedPayton to play with more of the cocky swagger the Sonics havecome to know and love. Payton seemed to take the advice to heartin Game 2, going so far as to engage Jordan in several verbalconfrontations, but the rest of his game didn't keep up with hismouth. With 13 points and three assists, he wasn't nearly thefactor that Seattle needed him to be. Two of Seattle's bestthree-point shooters, guard Hersey Hawkins and forward DetlefSchrempf, weren't much help either (combined, they made onlyfive of 21 three-point attempts in the first three games).Payton had 19 points and nine assists in Game 3, but they hardlymattered after the Bulls raced out to a 34-16 first-quarter leadand were never seriously threatened.

Payton joined a long and distinguished list of players who havebeen stifled by the Bulls in this postseason, including centerAlonzo Mourning of the Miami Heat, guard John Starks of the NewYork Knicks and the Magic's guard Nick Anderson and forwardDennis Scott. In fact, the case can be made that Chicago, 14-1in the playoffs through Sunday, has had the best defensivepostseason in NBA history. After Game 3, the Bulls had heldtheir opponents under 20 points in 27 of their 60 quarters(excluding the overtime period in their only loss, 102-99 inGame 3 against the Knicks)--or 45% of the time. No NBA championhas come close to that percentage since the league went to itscurrent four-round playoff format in 1983-84. The '90 Pistonswere the closest, with 26.3% (21 times in 80 quarters).

Those Pistons, not coincidentally, featured Rodman, albeit in afar less flamboyant incarnation. Some athletes put on their gamefaces; Rodman does his game hair. The new 'do he unveiled beforeGame 1 was a multicolored jumble of symbols and designs thatmade him look as though graffiti artists had mistaken his headfor an abandoned building. (His critics would call that aperfectly understandable error, but we digress.) "I think itspeaks for itself, doesn't it?" Rodman said of his hairstyle. Itdid, but exactly what it was saying was anyone's guess. A peacesign, an AIDS ribbon and what Rodman referred to as tribal artwere part of the collage, painted in a tie-dyed pattern as atribute to Chicago coach and Grateful Dead lover Phil Jackson.

Rodman and Brickowski, who sports a crew cut, weren't exchangingthe phone numbers of their stylists when they tangled late inthe first half of the series opener. Rodman had picked up atechnical in the first quarter, and it didn't take a genius tosee that one of the burly Brickowski's goals was to lure Rodmaninto a second T and the automatic ejection that would accompanyit. Trying to bait the Worm, however, is to engage the master athis own game, as Brickowski found out. He was called for aflagrant foul after clubbing Rodman while battling for arebound, then was ejected moments later by referee Joey Crawfordafter exchanging words with the Bulls' Jack Haley.

None of this pleased Karl, who thought Rodman had flopped todraw the flagrant-foul call on Brickowski and who complained atlength about it to the media the next day. This was more thanjust a coach's typical lobbying of the referees through themedia. To Karl, Rodman is like an infidel in the temple. "DennisRodman is the guy laughing at the NBA," Karl said the day afterGame 1. "He laughs at his teammates. He laughs on TV. He laughsat the referees, and they still kiss his butt. It's crazy."

Maybe it is, but there is a method to Rodman's madness. It tookhim exactly one half to help goad a key Seattle reserve into anejection and to become a distraction to the Sonics. But that wasnothing compared with the damage he would do to Seattle in Game2, especially at crunch time, when he turned the game into hisown personal stage. In the final minute he grabbed a clutchoffensive rebound of a miss by Kerr, won a key jump ball topreserve a three-point Chicago lead and hit the clinching freethrow. Earlier, Rodman had found time to chat up Karl. "Are westill friends?" he asked the Sonics coach. "We're stillfriends," Karl replied. Without Rodman's performance, the Bullswould have gone to Seattle with the series even. "There's moreto Dennis Rodman than meets the eye," Rodman said afterward,leaving others to ponder that frightening thought while heheaded off for an evening with the artist formerly known asPrince, both of them perhaps hoping to find a Chicago nightspotwhere it was Androgynous Celebrity Night.

In fact, since November, it has been one long party for theBulls, whose combined regular-season and playoff record throughSunday was an astonishing 86-11. Everything seems to have goneright for Chicago in '95-96, and the Finals were no exception.When Harper suddenly came up with a sore left knee duringwarmups before Game 3, Jackson inserted sixth man Toni Kukocinto the starting lineup, and he proceeded to hit three quickjump shots, including a three-pointer, to help stake the Bullsto their big first-quarter lead. Center Luc Longley providedsurprising scoring punch with a playoff career-high 19 points,including seven in the fourth quarter. Pippen, who had 21 pointsin both of the first two games, added balance in Game 3 with anear triple-double (12 points, nine assists and eight rebounds).

"That's the kind of team we have," Rodman said after Game 3."Nothing gets to us, nothing makes us lose our cool. Not evenme. Everybody wants to say Dennis Rodman's crazy, but I'm not.Dennis Rodman knows exactly what he's doing." Then Rodman beganto make his way through the crowd toward an elevator in KeyArena. Fans were calling his name, reporters were begging to askjust one more question, and Cindy Crawford was on her way tojoin him for a television appearance. As the elevator doorsclosed, the last thing the crowd saw was Rodman shaking hishead. And smiling.

COLOR PHOTO: BARRY GOSSAGE/NBA PHOTOS COVER PHOTO BullWhipped [Seattle SuperSonics player and Michael Jordan]COLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOHN BIEVER Aggressive at both ends of the floor, a determined Harper helped set the tone in Game 1 by jamming in a rebound over Kemp. [Shawn Kemp, Ron Harper and Dennis Rodman]COLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOHN BIEVER The Sonics swarmed and swatted the charging Bulls, but Pippen (left) and Jordan had answers for whatever Seattle threw at them. [Detlef Schrempf, Sam Perkins, Shawn Kemp and Scottie Pippen]COLOR PHOTO: BARRY GOSSAGE/NBA PHOTOS [See caption above--Michael Jordan, Shawn Kemp and Sam Perkins]COLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOHN BIEVER The theatrical Rodman strutted his most spectacular stuff in Game 2, grabbing 20 rebounds. [Dennis Rodman, Scottie Pippen and others]COLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOHN BIEVER Karl and Rodman jawed before deciding they were still friends. [George Karl and Dennis Rodman]

Before he became the premier postseason performer of his generation, the Patriots icon was a middling college quarterback who invited skepticism, even scorn, from fans and his coaches. That was all—and that was everything